


Fighting Fire With Fire

by fElBiTeR



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad First Impressions, Firefighter AU, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Rivals to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23411191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fElBiTeR/pseuds/fElBiTeR
Summary: Claude von Riegan has never been tongue-tied before in his entire life, that is, until he meets the Fire Chief of the Blue Lions, Dimitri Blaiddyd.They get off to a bit of a rocky start, but that doesn't stop Claude from doing his best to fix Dimitri's damaged first impression of him as they work together, fighting fires and uncovering a plot that threatens to undermine the foundations of Garreg Mach.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Fighting Fire With Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the modern firefighter au that absolutely nobody wanted or asked for, haha.
> 
> It's actually kinda funny how I've only been playing 60 hours of this game for the past week and a half on the Black Eagles route, yet I've somehow managed to fall in love with DimiClaude... Anyway, I hope you enjoy!<3

“Glad to see you could make it, Claude,” Seteth nods, greeting him at the entrance of the auditorium, a walking distance from the City Hall. Claude falls into step with him, and they continue making their way into the building, unfazed by the numerous members of the press pushing to get pictures of them or attempting to gain access to the meeting. They all but disappear when Claude and Seteth move further in.

“Was there ever even a doubt?” Claude winks at him, taking in the sight of all the people packed into foldable chairs toward the front, where a decorated stage awaited their special guest, whoever that might be. “Thanks for having me, District Chief.”

At that, Seteth immediately shakes his head, accompanied by a stern look. “No need for such formal titles, Claude. I’ve told you before.”

“If you say so, District Chief,” Claude grins, enjoying the sound of an incoming exasperated sigh. He eyes the almost regal-looking drapery, banners, and floral arrangements on the raised platform meant to be a stage. It’s a little too blue for his tastes, but then again, he isn’t the one in charge of the decorations. He turns to Seteth to discreetly ask what the hell he actually came here for today.

Their walk is cut short when a slender hand shoots out of the crowd and grabs Claude’s wrist with a hard tug, sending him stumbling forward. 

“Our spot is here,” the culprit says, patting the seat of a folding chair beside her that looks worse for wear and completely ready to collapse as soon as anyone sits on it.

He sits down anyway, very confidently, albeit a bit too slouched and casually for anyone to take him seriously.

“Hilda,” Claude chides, though his grin isn’t going away any time soon, “You can’t just interrupt my conversation like that! I was just about to milk some important information out of him, too.” Predictably, she rolls her eyes at his antics.

“Don’t tell me that you have no clue what’s going on today. That’s so unlike you,” Hilda remarks, frowning. A moment passes before her eyes narrow in suspicion, as if she just came to a sudden revelation. “You can try to play dumb, but you should know by now that it doesn’t work on me.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you almost sound a bit worried there,” Claude teases. It earns him a light punch in the arm, one that he deserves. Hilda ignores his exaggerated cries of pain in favor of waving at the rest of the Golden Deer, a small clump of people fast approaching from the entrance.

 _It looks like they all carpooled together_ , Claude notes, dropping the arm clutching the area Hilda punched. 

“Hey, Chief!” Raphael is the first to greet him as they all get settled into their section of chairs. Lorenz glances over at him, Ignatz waves, and Marriane avoids looking at anyone, really. Leonie and Lysithea are chatting and most definitely choosing to ignore his glowing presence. Their assigned seating is somewhat close to the front row, but not quite there. They are, after all, one of the two fire departments stationed here in Garreg Mach, effectively the top two in the entire district in terms of efficiency and successful firefights with minimal casualties.

“Raphael,” Claude acknowledges, just as a hushed silence falls over the crowd. 

Hilda’s wrong. Claude genuinely has no idea what this event is for, but judging by the fact that Mayor Rhea is on stage and dressed quite fancily, it must be important.

Hilda’s right. It _is_ unlike him. It’s just that... last night, he might have spent a bit too long with his nose buried in a firefighting manual about critical factors to watch out for upon entering an at-risk location identified as a no alarm level fire. It turned out to be quite the interesting read even though he already knew a majority of the tips, various things such as the importance of a non-routine approach to firefighting and taking into consideration the changing dynamics of today’s residential structure fires. 

Still, it’s good to brush up on theory once in a while, especially when it’s in favor of reading a long-winded email about the same topic every other week. Or at least, it _would_ have been good, if not for the fact that it turns out the one time Claude decides to skip his weekly skimming of unnecessary information, there’s actually something crucial to be learned. 

This is called being unlucky.

“Thank you all for joining me today, including our two firefighting stations positioned here in Garreg Mach, led by Fire Chiefs Edelgard von Hresvelg and Claude von Riegan, hailing from Adrestia and Leicester County, respectively,” Mayor Rhea begins, bringing Claude out of his musings. “I would like to thank them for their continual hard work in protecting this district over the past sixth months, increasing our fire safety, and lowering the rate of deaths and casualties from fires to an-all time low, outside of fire season. Fódlan is very lucky to have them.” She pauses and the audience applauses, as they should. Rhea patiently waits for the clapping to die down before proceeding.

She really knows her way around a speech.

“But we must continue to look into the future. We are rapidly approaching the summer, and as you should all know, summers in Garreg Mach are nothing to scoff at,” Mayor Rhea continues, maintaining a tone of severity. There’s a mumble of agreement, and Claude finds himself wincing the implications. Though he hasn’t spent a summer in Garreg Mach himself yet, he, like many others, knows that reports of large fires and high numbers of casualties spike in the summers in correlation to the rising heat in the county. It doesn’t help that Garreg Mach is nowhere near the ocean and far too close inland. 

Claude knows how fast these fires can spread and how many square feet of area they can burn per minute because his own hometown in Almyra also has fires with an uncanny similarity to them, but it always seems to be worse in Garreg Mach whenever he turns on the news in the summer. 

He and Edelgard have met up quite a few times to discuss tactics in regards to the incoming summer, but they haven’t been able to establish any surefire plans yet. In all honesty, Claude isn’t too confident about their odds, especially since it’s only the two of them—the Black Eagles and Golden Deer—stationed in Garreg Mach. 

“Because of our increased funding this year—” Claude’s eyebrows shoot up at that. considering his previous train of thought, and he immediately whips around to meet Edelgard’s minutely shocked expression. It looks like they’re on about the same wavelength.

Claude turns his attention back to the front and to Mayor Rhea, who is gesturing toward a group of people shuffling on stage from the right. “—I am proud to introduce to you a third fire station, transferred here from Faerghus to assist over us the summer for the fire season.” 

A group of people, eight, Claude counts, but any further logical thoughts are snatched from him the moment Mayor Rhea steps away from the podium and a man—wearing a solid black dress shirt, a loose-fitting blazer, and finally, a deep, royal blue tie matching the regality of the drapery behind him to bring his look together—rises up to speak instead. His blond hair is messily tied up, allowing his bangs to fall loosely over his temples and in front of his face. He is not smiling, and in fact, looks rather stiff and uncomfortable as he approaches the stand.

“Who—” Claude swallows, staring at the man. “Who’s that?” He doesn’t ask anyone in particular, and it’s in a hushed whisper more than anything else, really.

“He really isn’t from around here, is he?” Claude overhears someone scoff, but he steels his heart instead of letting his anger rise. He doesn’t need to look at the speaker to know that they’re talking about him, the Golden Deer Fire Chief from another country who got his position unfairly. Everything has been said about him, from nasty rumors about how he slept with Fire Commissioner Byleth to secure his spot in the hierarchy to how his station has been faking their casualty and death statistics in order to boost their paychecks. 

Claude can’t afford to allow his anger to get in the way of his critical decision making, especially out on calls. The last thing he wants is to get a civilian killed because he’s too preoccupied with reflecting on others’ opinions on him and where he came from.

The man onstage, objectively quite handsome, answers Claude’s question himself, but not before awkwardly clearing his throat. “My name is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, and I am pleased to inform you all that I, along with my firefighting team, the Blue Lions, have been transferred here to Garreg Mach from Fhirdiad to provide extra assistance for the incoming fire season, as Mayor Rhea has summarized. Some of you may recognize me as the son of the previous Fire Chief of Faerghus, and to that, I say I hope I can meet everyone’s expectations of me.”

His voice is deeper than Claude expects, and he seems like the ‘no funny business’ type of guy. Claude hopes he’s wrong and that speaking in front of crowds just isn’t Dimitri’s thing.

“To our two Fire Chiefs, Edelgard and Claude, I apologize for not briefing you on this matter earlier.” Mayor Rhea steps back onto the podium. “I meant for it to be a welcome surprise, with the tremendous amount of effort your two stations have been putting into keeping Garreg Mach safe. Hopefully, this will help ease the pressure off of you over the course of the next few months.”

She addresses the crowd next. “However, I did brief them on a new structure and schedule plan, designed by our lovely District Chief himself. Due to Fire Commissioner Byleth’s absence, we will make up for any possible weaknesses by having all three fire stations be positioned in the same building, here, at the heart of Garreg Mach, in about two weeks. That is when construction of the new building will be complete, filled with facilities and utilities of the utmost quality.” This must have been in the email Claude passed over last night in favor of reading.

… Claude makes a vow to never to skip the weekly emails ever again.

It’s a solid plan, Claude has to say. Not only will it give them a chance to bond with the other two fire stations and get to know their fire fighting style better for higher leveled calls where both or all three teams are sent out, but this also makes it much easier to talk strategy with Edelgard about the fire season.

And now with Dimitri, too. 

This changes things around in Claude’s plans quite a bit.

Claude drowns out the next part of the announcements. Seteth takes about twenty minutes to report on the quality and quantity of equipment for the remainder of the spring and then reading what is essentially a receipt of all the things they’ll be ordering for the summer. Claude has to give Seteth kudos for being able to put up with all the boring parts of his job.

“I will be taking questions for the remainder of the time,” Mayor Rhea says when Seteth is done, and then informally dismisses everyone.

Claude exhales, then makes a bee-line straight toward Mayor Rhea before anyone else can have the chance to occupy her time.

“Fire Chief Claude,” she says, pleasantly.

“Mayor Rhea,” Claude returns the greeting, flashing her a charming grin. “Can I be the first to request for Dimitri’s records? And records for the other members of the Blue Lions, too, of course!”

“Always quick on the draw, aren’t you, Claude?” Mayor Rhea smiles. “Don’t worry. After they’re processed, you’ll be the first to receive them.”

“Thanks,” Claude says, then pauses, hesitating to continue.

“What is it?” Mayor Rhea asks, sensing Claude’s unease.

“I understand that our funds are short, but I had this idea for the summer—another crazy idea, from yours truly—who would have thought? But the point is that it’s quite… costly, and I’m not really sure of the success rate, yet,” Claude explains, keeping his tone lighthearted. 

“Then your team must continue to run simulations until the success rate is adequately proportioned to the amount that you propose we spend,” she says, simply. Damn it. Claude should have known better than to expect a different response.

“Of course, Mayor Rhea.” Claude hopes that he sounds more neutral than disappointed. The moment she turns away from him, about five other people attempt to catch her attention, which is Rhea’s way of wordlessly ending their conversation.

Great. If Claude’s unable to get the proper numbers to back up his idea, then he’ll need to start thinking of other ways to acquire more funding. He isn’t very skilled with number crunching, but maybe he could give stocks a shot? But he’d rather not risk all that he has and more on short selling, though. Would people donate to him if he started a fake GoFundMe page? Or maybe he should just begin with selling everything that he owns...

He sighs aloud.

Someone behind him clears their throat.

Claude turns around to tell Hilda off for interrupting him while he’s brooding but is shocked into a frozen silence when instead of Hilda, the new Fire Chief is standing idly before him, unaccompanied by any other member of the Blue Lions.

“Claude von Riegan, I presume,” Dimitri says, sounding reluctant, shifting on his feet, as if someone ordered him to come over here and introduce himself, which probably isn’t too far from the truth. “I am Dimitri Blaiddyd. I will be working closely with your team as well as Edelgard’s for the next few months.”

Claude’s breath hitches when he finally gets the chance to properly look into Dimitri’s eyes, and... by the Goddess… they’re such a brilliant shade of—

“—Blue,” is what escapes Claude’s mouth instead of a proper greeting. _Fuck,_ he thinks, absolutely mortified. _Good going, Claude._

Claude opens his mouth so he can rectify his mistake, maybe casually spinning a tale about how he had a late night and wasn’t quite awake yet, or maybe even using this as a chance to complement the other man’s spectacularly blue eyes, but before he can say anything, _anything at all_ , Dimtri’s lips tug downward into a scowl that’s unfairly attractive on his face. 

_Damn_. 

Claude’s mouth snaps shut, and his brain, usually reliable, stutters in place for too many seconds.

Well, there goes that plan.

Dimitri politely chooses to ignore Claude’s poor etiquette and offers his right hand in amnesty. 

Claude’s heart _lurches_.

At that moment, Claude imagines dropping straight down to his knees and gently taking Dimitri’s hand into his, kissing the backside, like out of a children’s fairytale. It takes a great amount of effort to wrestle the illogical thought out of his head, leaving him with a mostly empty brain and none of his usual cleverness or quick-witted replies, afterward.

Claude just stares at the offered hand, dazedly. He vaguely remembers that people normally shake hands as a proper greeting.

Dimitri frowns down at his own extended hand, and then finally pulls it away.

 _No, don’t...!_ Claude groans internally. _What’s wrong with me?_

“I apologize... if I have done anything to offend you,” Dimitri says, slowly, cautiously, giving Claude a look of scrutiny. 

This isn’t how Claude imagined their first conversation. _He_ should be the one apologizing. 

“Hopefully people will try to die less over this summer. It would certainly make our jobs a lot easier,” Claude jokes, defaulting to his usual attempts to lighten the mood.

“How can a Fire Chief be so callous?” Dimitri snaps, a spark of fury visible in his narrowing eyes. “Death is nothing to laugh at.”

Claude doesn't flinch at the sudden aggression. He doesn’t—because he carefully schools his expression into something akin to a rueful smile, something achieved through a lot of practice.

Obviously, Dimitri has a tragic backstory that’s probably still a fresh, open wound, and Claude really just had to go and pick the one topic that pokes at that wound.

 _Sorry_ , Claude wants to apologize, and maybe jump down a storm drain and break his neck while he’s at it. 

Instead, what he says, quite stupidly, is, “Geez. What crawled up your ass and died?” Claude is _horrified_ at himself the moment the words leave his mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dimitri hisses, not very subtly clenching a fist at his side.

“I—” Claude curses himself, tripping over his words, maybe for the first time in his terribly short lived-life. There’s a sudden weight on his right shoulder—a hand—and who swoops in to save him from stewing in his own embarrassment other than his wonderful Lieutenant, Hilda?

“Hey, Dimitri! It’s Dimitri, right? My name’s Hilda. We look forward to working with you,” Hilda introduces, smiling brightly. She slings an arm around Claude’s shoulder, probably hoping to show Dimitri how amicable they are.

It doesn’t matter what she says or does at this point, though.

“I do not think I can say that I share the same sentiments,” Dimitri responds, coldly, making a show out of glaring at Claude, then turns around to get as far away from them as possible, probably, and to meet up with his team. He doesn’t turn around to glance at them, even once.

Claude’s eyes follow Dimitri’s back the entire time he walks away. Dimitri, who probably hates him, now. Dimitri, who probably thinks that all of the Golden Deer are just as bad as Claude and will express this sentiment to the rest of the Blue Lions.

Claude fucked up. A noise of frustration escapes his throat, something that’s maybe comparable to the gurgles of a dying man.

“Hmm,” Hilda frowns. “Well, that was kinda rude. I hope he’s not gonna be like this when we get calls.”

When Claude doesn’t make a snipe about Dimtri’s cloudy disposition, something which he usually loves taking a jab at, Hilda shoots him a questioning look. Unfortunately for him, Claude’s tongue continues to weigh heavily in his mouth.

“What’s got our fearless leader so speechless?” Hilda asks, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

Claude groans and buries his face into his hands, wishing he had the power to turn back time. Hilda pokes his shoulder to check if he’s still alive.

So much for making a decent first impression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth is that I'm still kinda wobbly on both their characterizations, mostly because... well. I haven't actually played their routes yet. Also, fair warning, I'm not a firefighter, nor do I actually know anything about firefighting. I'm just here for the DimiClaude -3-
> 
> Make sure to avoid going outside if you can, wash your hands, and stay safe!<3


End file.
